Mako was pretty sure he'd been harassing the same doe for the past week or so. The solitary mule deer was seemingly split off from her herd, and he'd run into her every so often. Unfortunately, she was light on her feet, and much swifter than Mako's lumbering form, so every time she easily outran him. It was clear she wasn't doing so hot. From far away she looked alright, but whenever Mako managed to get close enough, the ridges of her rib cage could be seen. Winter had probably been rough on her, and with the snows still thick on the ground it wasn't getting easier any time soon.
Today counted maybe the fourth time Mako had seen the deer, but his sharp, hungry eyes keenly noticed a difference: a slight hitch in her gait as she walked alongside a stream at the bottom of a ravine. Likely a sprained ankle or a fracture from some unsteady footing on ice. Mako lingered back at the ridge of the ravine, head low as he hid behind some shrubs. He watched silently, letting the deer gain enough distance to disappear around a bend. His mouth split in a toothy smirk, it'd be difficult for her to make it up the steep sides. A sitting duck, but Mako still wanted to hedge his bets.
Mako tipped his head back, a short hunting song rippling from his throat. Maybe with some luck one of his packmates would be nearby to help him out.